


The Price You Pay

by firefright



Series: Family Matters [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Dancing, Dick Grayson (mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Omega Jason Todd, Original Character(s), Party, Unwanted Advances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason hates having to attend Bruce's parties and galas. From the clothes he's forced to wear, to the way he's expected to behave. But worst of all is how the high society people look at him as the adopted omega son of Bruce Wayne. If he's lucky, he's dirt beneath their shoes, but if he's unlucky, he's the easy target that can grant them access to all the power and fortune that comes with the Wayne name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price You Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So way back when I posted chapter 4 of And Then There's You, a commenter called DD asked if I'd consider writing a story about young omega!Jason's experiences at Wayne parties and galas, and of course I said yes XD It's taken me four months, but here we finally are. So DD, if you're still reading I very much hope you enjoy!
> 
> Some warnings are in place for one character making unwanted advances on another, as well both those characters involved being underage, but the situation is disarmed fairly quickly and nothing much actually happens. (Also, high society /a/b/o is a messed up place in my head, and there are some implications of that throughout the story)

“Do I really have to do this?” Jason asks, fiddling with the low collar of his shirt once again while Alfred watches him from the doorway. “Can’t I just skip this one and go patrol instead?”

It’s evening in Wayne Manor, and through the floors below Jason can already hear music as the string-quartet Bruce hired for tonight’s charity ball strike up a tune. The melody is soft and not unpleasant to his ears, but unfortunately marred by the knowledge of what else is waiting for Jason when he goes downstairs tonight.

“Everytime we host an event you ask me this question, young master, and each time you already know the answer.” Alfred sighs.

“No?”

“No.”

Jason shakes his head, his fingers tracing down the open fabric around his neck. He feels uncomfortable wearing this shirt, but it’s the fashion now for rich young omegas; so Alfred told him, and so the tailor told Alfred. It wouldn’t do for Bruce Wayne’s adopted son to appear at one of his father’s parties in anything less. Not if he doesn’t want to get crucified by the rich society fucks waiting for him downstairs. They’re always hungry for scandal, especially when it’s aimed at someone like Bruce.

Given that Jason’s adoption was scandal enough when it happened, rags-to-riches sob story aside, he probably should try not to cause anymore scenes. “Can I at least wear something else?”

The shirt is soft, a pale silvery shade of blue that Jason’s told compliments the teal shade of his eyes, and fitted to emphasise the parts of his body that he has yet to grow fully into. The buttons are pearl, matching at his wrists and down his chest, which makes him uncomfortable enough because of how much the materials comprising the shirt cost, but the _collar_. The collar is what makes it unbearable; it’s so low it’s barely a collar at all, dipping down so far as to expose his collarbones, and the shape of it - a gentle scoop - looks like an invitation to anyone looking.

Jason wants something, anything, to cover his neck with before he goes down there. The tailored pants - made of a complimenting grey fabric - and even the shoes - soft leather with slightly raised heels - are nothing in contrast to how uncomfortable that exposure of his neck makes him.

It’s a little ridiculous considering that he goes out each night with his legs bare for all the world to see, and maybe a month ago it wouldn’t have been so bad, but a month ago Jason hadn’t been through his first heat cycle; crossing that final biological barrier away from childhood into adolescence and adulthood beyond. When he goes downstairs everyone will be able to smell it on him; that new maturity in his scent, even though the heat itself ended three weeks ago. Jason knows, because he’s smelled it on other omega kids his own age when it happened to them.

It’s a shame he can’t use that as an excuse to get him out of the party, but Bruce has already pushed this event back two weeks because of Jason’s heat (mercifully explaining the change in date through some other made up excuse rather than the truth). 

Two weeks ago it had only been over for a single week. Jason had still been frazzled and sensitive from his ebbing hormones, and Bruce had been snapping at every little thing around him, protective instincts drawn to the forefront anytime anyone outside their small pack so much as _breathed_ in Jason’s direction. Hardly a good time to be dealing with almost a hundred relative strangers in their home.

He’s just lucky that his heat came at him during the summer holidays. Everyone at school would have figured it out immediately if Jason had suddenly taken a week away from class and then come back smelling different.

Alfred just arches an eyebrow at his question, white-gloved hands carefully clasped in front of him.

That’s also a no then.

“Okay, fine. But you and Bruce owe me, Alfie.”

“Do we?” The beta suppresses a smile as he waits for Jason to go on.

“Yeah, I’m thinking… my favourite meals and desserts for the next week?”

“Hm.” There’s a pause as his bargain is considered. “Perhaps, if you remain downstairs for four hours. _And_ follow all the rules.”

“Two hours.” Jason barters.

“Three.” Alfred openly smiles back at him this time. This is an old game between them, ever since the first time Jason had been presented at once of Bruce’s parties. It had been a disaster, hence the instigation of The Rules.

No swearing. No snarling or baring his teeth. He minds his manners; he doesn’t stuff his face at the buffet table, nor does he attempt to sneak out of the party before the agreed time limit is up. And, most importantly of all, he doesn’t punch anybody, no matter how much they deserve it.

Jason looks at the time on his watch. It’s seven o’clock, so if he goes down now that means he can escape the party at ten. Early enough that he may still be allowed to run a quick patrol on his own later. “Deal.”

After the three hours are up he’s probably going to need to crack a few heads to let out his frustrations.

Alfred offers out his hand to Jason, which he shakes with crisp formality before submitted himself to a few final check overs from the beta, grimacing when Alfred tutts and grabs the comb off his dresser to drag through Jason’s hair again. It’s not his fault he inherited unruly curly hair from _somewhere_. Probably the grandparents he’s never seen pictures of, since neither Willis or Catherine had the same textured hair that Jason does.

Once Alfred’s satisfied with his hair he turns Jason around, making some tiny adjustments to his outfit. So tiny that Jason can’t even tell the difference between before and after, but Alfred seems satisfied that he’s presentable now nonetheless.

“I feel like such a tool.” he sighs, catching sight of his reflection in his bedroom mirror. The old Jason would never have been caught dead looking like this. He’s just glad Bruce doesn’t force him to dress this way all the time, no doubt like some of the other poor rich omega boys have to (and at least he is a boy, the girls generally have it even worse).

“Hardly. A tool would doubtless complain less.”

“Har de har har, Alfred. You’re a real riot.” Jason half-reaches up to adjust his collar back again, then aborts the motion at the last second. “Guess I better go get it over with, huh?”

Alfred nods solemnly, “That would be the best thing to do. You know these functions serve equal import for the work you and Master Bruce do as your excursions at night.”

“I know.” Jason answers as they leave his bedroom together. He slides his hand over the silken fabric of his trousers as he walks. “Helps throw off anyone who might suspect our secret identities.”

“And the wagging tongues of his peers have often led Master Bruce to discover clues and criminal activities he might otherwise have missed.” Alfred says pointedly. 

“I know, Alfred. I know, trust me. I’ve had that lecture before.” He sighs as the volume of the music grows louder, now accompanied by the sound of voices and laughter. “I just hate them. Their whole attitude, their privilege. They don’t even know how good they got it, and then they act like throwing their pocket change at the poor makes them good people while they waste thousands on stupid shi - stuff like champagne and fancy clothing.”

Clothing like what he’s wearing tonight. A suit that cost enough to feed and house a family of four for over a month. It’s wasteful, pure and simple, especially compounded by the fact that Jason probably won’t ever wear this particular outfit again after this party. “And worst of all is…”

He trails off, fingers tightening into fists at his side.

“Is what?” Alfred prompts gently, close enough that Jason can catch the burst of his lemon-and-tea scent in his nostrils.

“You know, the way they look at me. Like I’m trash.” _Like I’m meat_ , he doesn’t say, keeping that part to himself. It’s going to be worse now, with the message his scent is going to broadcast to all of them. 

“What they think doesn't matter. You know it isn’t true.”

“Yeah, I know.” He stops halfway down the stairs, biting his lip.

“Master Jason?” Comfort comes in the form of the squeeze of Alfred’s hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing. Just, bracing myself. It’s cool.” Jason straightens his shoulders and lifts his head, before continuing downstairs. “Three hours, right?”

“Three hours.” Alfred confirms. “Then you may come and join me in hiding in the kitchen.”

“Nice.” he laughs at that blatant admission. Guests are still arriving, being escorted in by the temporary serving staff that were hired on tonight. As good as Alfred is, he can’t cater for and meet the whims of an entire party’s worth of people by himself. “Well, here I go. See you on the other side, Alfred.”

Jason takes a deep breath, then descends the last of the stairs to cross the hallway and step into the open ballroom.

Scent hits him like a wave, filling the air with too many messages to process at once. Somehow Jason stops himself from ducking back out immediately and looks for the most important person in the room to him: Bruce. If he can find him and settle in his presence for a little while it will pass some time before the inevitable starts.

Nose, ears and eyes sharp, it doesn’t take a minute for Jason to spot Bruce, surrounded by what looks like a pack of omega men and women vying for his attention. He quickly makes a beeline for him, moving as fast as he can without breaking into an outright run. If he runs it will draw more attention than him walking, and he’s already drawing attention.

Heads swivel as Jason passes by. He can see noses lifting already and does his best to look unaffected by it; pretending not to hear anyone who calls out to him as he passes by and ignoring the flashes from the cameras of the society reporters Bruce invited here tonight.

It’s a charity event, which means it has to be reported on to be worth having at all.

Bruce spots him approaching, and his perfect Brucie smile is in place as he steps away from his little entourage and reaches out to put his arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Jason, there you are.” Bruce says pleasantly, his hand squeezing down in a reassuring gesture that Jason can’t help leaning into. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost upstairs.”

“Wardrobe trouble.” Jason lies. The trouble being his wardrobe wasn’t large enough to lose this damn outfit in. Bruce smells good so close, instantly calming Jason’s already frayed nerves. “Haven’t missed much have I?”

“No, nothing much. Liselle here was just telling me a fascinating story about her shopping trip to Paris last week.” Bruce says, and the tightness in his jaw as he says it has Jason biting down on a laugh. Yeah, he bets Bruce is just loving that story. “Liselle, ladies, gentleman, you remember my son Jason, of course.”

“Of course. So nice to see you again, Jason.” The one called Lisella beams at him, her soft golden hair curled carefully at her neck. She wears a shimmering, almost sheer, gown of yellow to accentuate it, which makes Jason feel like his outfit is tame in comparison - not that that’s reassuring at all for his future when he glimpses what some of the adult male omegas in the room are wearing as well. But at least he doesn’t have an escort accompanying him, unlike some of the other omegas closer to Jason’s age do.

If Bruce tried to give him an escort to ‘protect his virtue’ or whatever, Jason would fly through the roof. He’s not scared of any society alpha or beta, and certainly doesn’t need anyone’s help to keep them off him.

The rest of the gathered crowd greet him similarly and Jason offers the minimum of polite conversation back. He wants to keep their interest away from him, which shouldn’t be hard. Their focus is on getting Bruce to notice them; it’s not other omegas he needs to be wary of. Jason just wants to be allowed to sink into obscurity beside Bruce and go unnoticed for as long as he can.

It only takes a few minutes - during which he is embarrassingly complimented on his outfit no less than five times - for that hope to be dashed.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and Jason - still with Bruce’s arm draped comfortingly around his neck - resigns himself to the fact that the bullshit is going to start early tonight. He turns with Bruce, as well as the rest of the omega crowd, to look at the pair of alphas who’ve approached them.

Jessica Freyman and her son, Jamie. Perfect. They must have just arrived, Jason thinks with a sinking feeling, because Jessica steps forward to offer her hand to Bruce first. “Bruce,” she dips her head respectfully, in that way alphas do when entering another pack leader’s home. “Good to see you. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Not at all, Jessica.” Bruce says, smile fixed on his face as he shakes her hand, then Jamie’s. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Jason can feel all eyes on him as Jessica holds her hand out to him. He successfully manages to suppress a grimace as he offers out his own; he really hates this part, and this is just the first one of the evening. Unlike with Bruce, Jessica doesn’t shake his hand, she takes it in hers and lifts it up, bending forward until it looks like she’s almost about to kiss his knuckles before letting go. At the same time Jason bows his head; it’s how high class alphas greet omegas sharing their social circle. “Jason,” her eyes seem to focus intently on him, “You look lovely this evening. My, have you grown again?”

 _Fuck you, you old bitch_. Jason thinks venomously towards her and her thinly veiled insinuation. “I may have.” he says politely, before suffering the same attention from Jamie.

Jamie Freyman is three years older than Jason. As arrogant an alpha as they come. His parents have been pushing him at Jason for the past three months or more, and unlike some alphas among Jason’s peer group - who look long suffering and uninterested whenever they’re forced to talk to him - Jamie is as much invested in winning Jason over to him as Jessica is.

It had been a hard lesson for Jason the first time it happened to him. He’d been less sure of himself then, and hardly used to such attention. Unlike the lower class alphas who were open about their interests, those of the higher classes hid it behind manners and well placed comments, as well as flashing their cash. Jason hadn’t thought any of them would pay attention to him at first considering where he came from, but oh how wrong he’d been back then, still so naive of how much power and desire the Wayne name offered to those ambitious enough to pursue it.

To pursue _him_. That was how the no hitting rule got added onto the list as a matter of fact (though Bruce didn’t really seem to mind Jason taking that alpha kid down for getting a little too forceful with him, just annoyed that he had to pretend to apologise to the boy’s parents). Jason might only be adopted, and a street rat, but he’d quickly figured out that wasn’t enough to stop those who hungered for the Wayne fortune to add to their own, or to get a particular contract with Wayne Enterprises. So far as they were concerned their offspring striking up a relationship with him would be a foot in the door towards that goal.

So came the false smiles; the false compliments. The many, _many_ , annoying offers to dance.

Jason hates dancing.

“Jamie.” he says politely, forcing a rigid smile onto his face as Jamie’s hand lingers in his. As his nose lingers above Jason’s skin when he smells his hand. It’s such a bullshit gesture that he has to feign subservience to anyone here just because they were lucky enough to be born with a knot between their legs instead of anything else, but rules are rules. Acting otherwise would be scandalous to these people.

As awful as it was on the streets, at least everyone there understood that you had to earn your place in the pecking order, no matter what your designation was.

Though… at the same time high society isn’t all that bad, at least not living under Bruce’s roof. If Jason had gotten his first heat where he was living before… he shudders to think what would have happened. The omega heat shelters for the homeless are all well and good, but only if you know the heat is coming - and if they have spaces free.

“Jason.” Jamie smirks when he pulls away. Jason wants to punch it off his face, but he can’t. He has to be _polite_ , even when Jamie starts blatantly eyeing up the bare hollow of his throat. “Nice to see you again. What have you been up to since school broke up?”

“Nothing.” He says shortly, trying to get the message across quickly as always that he’s not interested. And just like always it doesn’t work.

Jamie snorts, “Really, the son of the richest man in Gotham has done nothing at all since school broke up. Come on now, Jason,” he says, in what he must think is an attractive tone of voice, but actually sounds kind of weaselly. “You can be honest with me.”

“I am being honest.” Jason looks at Bruce to see if rescue is coming from that direction, but Jessica, cunning bitch that she is, has already drawn him into conversation with some boring business talk. Of course Bruce isn’t actually distracted, but so long as he’s putting on his ‘Brucie’ persona he has to pretend otherwise.

Fine, he’s on his own then with this, as usual.

“See, this is why you should have come sailing with us last week. I tried to invite you, but you never replied.”

Jason turns to start walking through the ballroom. If he wants to get away from Jamie without doing something ‘uncouth’ then he’s going to need some kind of distraction. “Sorry, it must have got lost in the mail.”

He doesn’t think he could sound less interested if he tried, but still Jamie keeps doggedly at his heels while Jason looks for salvation. He has a scent that stinks like sour apples to Jason’s nose and he doesn’t like it one bit.

If only Bruce and Dick weren’t having another one of their ‘disagreements’ Jason thinks bitterly, he’d be able to help him out. 

… of course, considering how much Dick has been in his thoughts since his heat…

Nope. Jason is not going down that path again. He’s already going to have a hard enough time looking Nightwing in the eye the next time they meet, he doesn’t need to add to that pile just because this idiot is following him around.

Jamie keeps talking as they walk, about nonsense. About this thing and that thing that he and his friends have planned for the summer; events he insists that Jason really should come to, even though Jason would rather shoot himself in the face than put up with him a second longer than he already has. He offers to get Jason a drink, and Jason replies pointedly by sweeping a glass of soda off of one of the trays the servers are carrying around for the underage kids and taking a sip of it. “Don’t bother.”

Okay, maybe that was a little cruel, but after three months of this bullshit Jason’s completely out of patience. Jamie’s three years older than him, six feet tall and somewhat good looking, because of that - and the fact that he’s the sole heir to a wealthy family in Gotham - he can’t seem to get it through his thick skull why Jason isn’t falling down at his feet in awe at being the focus of his attention.

To his credit, this time Jamie actually looks a little put off, but as always he soo bounces back. This time with a smile little more on the edge of sly. “How about something with a little more kick?” He nods his head towards the alcohol.

“No thanks.” Jason says quickly. That’s the last thing he needs; Brucie might be someone who _would_ look the other way at underage drinking, but the man behind the persona definitely isn’t. If Jason in any way wanted to try alcohol (which he doesn’t) he definitely wouldn’t do it here. Trying to sneak smokes into the manor is hard enough. “Look, I gotta… hey, I think your dad wants you for something.”

He points over Jamie’s shoulder, and - miracle of miracles - the oldest trick in the book still works on the idiot. He looks back to where Jessica is standing and Jason takes his chance, ducking down and behind another crowd of talking guests. The maneuver almost costs him when his shiny leather shoes threaten to slip on the hardwood floor, but Robin’s never failing sense of balance saves him in the end. For now at least, Jason is free.

And oh joy, there’s still two and a half hours of this crap to go.

He keeps to the edges of the room as much as he can, sipping at his soda and nibbling at canapés snatched from the buffet table as he watches the crowd. Of course it’s impossibly to avoid interacting with people entirely - he’s never going to get away with being a complete wallflower thanks to his adopted surname - but Jason does the best he can for the next hour to avoid any interaction that lasts longer than five minutes, and to stay well clear of Jamie Freyman. 

It’s all well and good until the dancing starts. Then the offers come in droves, and Jason does his best to offer excuse after excuse to refuse them from the various young alphas - and occasional beta - who approach him.

His shoes are too slippery. He twisted his ankle last week. Sometimes he just says outright that he doesn’t like to dance, and it’s _exhausting_. Jason is just about to sink into despair when someone familiar steps up to the plate between him and the rest of the party.

“Hey kiddo. Mind if I have this dance?” Barbara Gordon winks down at him when she catches his right hand in hers, bare seconds after his last prospective partner has walked off in a huff. She’s impressively tall for a female beta, and Jason grins instantly when she puts her other hand on his waist, and he responds in kind by placing his on her shoulder. She’s almost too old to be dancing with a fourteen year-old, but hell if he - or anyone else here - is going to complain about it. “How’s my new favourite boy wonder?”

“Hi.” He relaxes into her hold the way he wouldn’t with any of the others, because he knows Barbara is trustworthy, she’s _Batgirl_. Or was at any rate. Sometimes still is if Bruce asks her nicely enough. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Bruce invited dad, but shockingly he couldn’t make it, so I came here in his place.” She shrugs, “It’s for a good cause.”

“That’s what they keep telling me.” He cocks his head, grinning. “So does asking me to dance mean you’ve finally decided to go out with me?”

“Easy, tiger.” Barbara smirks, knowing he’s joking. She does look stunning though, in a black gown cut in solid powerful lines and her red hair braided tightly around her head: a style more commonly worn by alpha women. Beta or not, she pulls it off. “I just thought I’d help you out with your adoring crowd.”

Jason groans audibly at the reminder. She turns him and it’s easy with her, feels more like sparring than dancing. “I hate them. I hate these parties. I hate all of it.”

“But you look so cute.” She fake-simpers at him, and steps nimbly aside when Jason deliberately tries to step on her foot. “Too slow, little bird.”

“I look stupid, but come down to the cave later tonight and I’ll show you just how fast I am.” he bites back, before sighing. “Look, you didn’t have to rescue me or anything. I had it under control. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened.”

“I can guess.” Barbara says dryly. “Dick used to tell me about the way omegas would come after him at these things, he hated it too.”

Jason doesn’t doubt that, but he guesses it wasn’t so hard for Dick, whatever he said. He’s an alpha, and so far as Jason’s concerned being an alpha is easy street, whatever part of society you live in. When an alpha says no, people listen; when an omega says it they’re assumed to be playing hard to get. “Yeah, I’m sure.” he says a touch bitterly, because Dick still isn’t a subject he wants to linger on. 

“Look, Jason, if you need me to say anything to -”

“No.” he says again, more forcefully this time. “I got it under control, BG. Trust me.”

He does not need rescuing, not now and not ever. He’s an omega, he’s not helpless.

Barbara sighs and turns her gaze heavenwards, as if to say ‘Robins, what can you do?’ before looking back down at him and nodding. “Okay, kiddo. You know you’ve always got my number, for algebra or anything else.”

“Sure.” he smiles, relieved. “Like cinema dates.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

They dance a while longer, through this song and the next, talking shit about anything and everything except crime fighting. Jason is reminded just how much he likes Barbara; she’s smart, funny and witty, and it’s so weird that she ever stopped being Batgirl when she’s amazing at it. He’s actually kind of disappointed when Bruce walks over to interrupt them.

“Barbara.” Bruce says politely, taking her hand and nodding in acceptance when she dips her head to him like the rest of them. “It’s good to see you here.”

“It’s good to be here, Bruce. Dad sends his apologies that he couldn’t make it.” Barbara says politely, and watching them act like they barely know each other makes Jason want to burst out laughing. “It’s just there’s a lot of open cases at the moment and -”

Bruce shakes his head. “Commissioner Gordon has a lot of work to do, I understand. Now I hope you don’t mind if I steal Jason away from you?”

“Of course not.” She smiles, looking down at Jason and winking. “I understand completely.”

He winks back, and mouths ‘cinema date’ before Bruce pulls him away. When he looks back over his shoulder the crowd has already swallowed Barbara from sight.

“Having fun?” Bruce asks him quietly.

“Surviving.” Jason corrects, leaning into him as they step out of the room. Coffee-and-bourbon replaces the chaotic mixed scent of the ballroom, a massive relief to Jason’s overtaxed nose. “What’s this about, B?”

“Nothing.” Bruce says, stopping and leaning back against a wall. “I just thought we could both use a breather. Before I have to go back in there and give my speech.”

Jason blinks, then laughs. “Sneaky. You sure we’re safe from Alfred?”

“For five minutes.” Bruce smiles back down at him, and doesn’t complain when Jason places his head against his shoulder. “How much longer until he lets you go?”

“An hour and five. You?”

“Never, I think.”

Jason snickers again, before closing his eyes. It’s quiet here, and with only Bruce’s scent to fill his nose immensely soothing. “Betcha wish you were out beating up criminals now, huh?”

Bruce snorts, “I think that goes without saying.”

“You know, we could sneak off…”

Jason wasn’t expecting it to work, but he still feels disappointed when Bruce shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, Jay-lad.” Well, it was worth a shot. “Not if we want to live to see tomorrow.”

He grins, continuing to lean against Bruce, and by the time the five minutes are up Jason thinks they’re both feeling calmer - at least if Bruce’s scent is anything to go by. The part of him that’s been tamed from the half-feral street kid he used to be likes that, likes that Bruce’s scent reacts in accordance to Jason’s own; other parts hate him for it, because he’s gotten close to someone, gotten vulnerable, and they hate what that could mean for him in the future if this ever goes belly up.

But after two years of living with Bruce, Jason’s fairly certain that won’t be the case.

“All right.” Bruce says, straightening his tuxedo. “Speech time. Let’s go get this over with.”

“Don’t say it like we’re in this together.” Jason complains, feeling relaxed from time with Barbara and then some peace and quiet while getting to absorb Bruce’s parent-scent. “This is your own damn fault, I’m just an innocent victim.”

Bruce snorts and ruffles Jason’s hair with one of his huge hands, completely ruining Alfred’s earlier efforts in taming it. Jason kind of loves him for doing so. “Say anything more and I’ll make you stay an extra hour.”

Jason sticks his tongue out at him in retaliation for the threat, then ducks under the playful sweep of Bruce’s arm before reluctantly entering the ballroom once more.

 

*

 

It’s not a bad speech, really, in Jason’s limited experience with speeches. There’s something awe-inspiring about watching Bruce - even outside the cape - command a crowd of almost a hundred alphas, betas and omegas with nothing more than the power of his presence and voice. He might be Brucie in these moments, but to those who know how to look - to Jason, to Alfred, to Barbara - Batman is never far beneath the surface, urging everyone in the room to give what they can to a worthy cause.

They’ll give far less than they can, but the effect is enough that they’ll probably give more now than they would have without it.

There’s a few staged photos taken afterwards that Jason is dragged into, and he forces the smile onto his face like he has done all night when the cameras flash, secure with Bruce’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. The speech took up ten minutes, and the press takes up fifteen more. By the time Jason slips away from them he only has thirty-five minutes more to get through before he’s home free.

He tries to sustain himself by thinking about all the delicious meals Alfred will make him in the week ahead, but that only works for so long. Especially when an elderly alpha-omega pair almost bore him to tears by telling him what a fine young omega he is and how he should meet their grandson, so sure are they that he’s a charmer. The old omega woman actually pinches his cheek and really, that’s more than enough reason for Jason to be _gone_.

Fuck it, slipping out onto the balcony for ten minutes should be fine. It doesn’t technically count as disappearing when it’s attached to the ballroom. So long as he’s back where he should be when Alfred comes looking for him, Jason thinks he’ll get away with it.

He steps outside, feeling the cool night air against his face like a soothing balm. His skin is prickling after the heat of the ballroom, especially his bare throat. Jason reaches up to massage it, thinking that he’ll have to wear a scarf for the next week probably before he’ll feel comfortable with the sight of his own neck again.

The urge to smoke cuts through him, sharp and clear, but the nearest cigarettes are taped up under his bed, and Jason’s not quite bold enough to risk climbing up the side of the house for a quick fix and losing out on his bargain with Alfred. He makes do by focusing on the light of Gotham in the distance instead, imagining all there is going on out there tonight. It can’t be anything too bad, considering the lack of Bat symbol lighting up the night sky.

So focused is he, he almost misses the balcony door opening behind him. Almost. 

The scent of sour apples ruins the night air and Jason’s calm flies out the window, replaced by tension as he clenches his jaw. This guy is seriously asking for it tonight.

“Jason, there you are.” Jamie says, as if Jason’s just some object he accidentally misplaced on his way out the house that morning. “I’ve been looking for you all over. You should come inside, I wanted to ask you to dance, since -”

“No.” Jason says, just barely keeping himself from saying anything ruder. Just ten more minutes to go, then he’s out of here. “I’m fine where I am.”

There’s silence, then the sound of Jamie stepping closer. Jason half-expects him to do something, but it still takes him by surprise when the older boy goes so far as to grab him by the elbow and haul him around to face him. “Jason.”

“Let go of me.” Jason says warningly, trying to pull away. His heart ratchets up a beat when Jamie doesn’t, instead flaring his scent in an attempt to intimidate him, as if that’s all it will take to get Jason to submit. It’s an evil bullying tactic that alphas use on omegas, and Jason’s having none of it.

“Why?” Jamie says, leaning in closer. “We’re alone, no one else can see us here.”

The hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand on end at those words. When an alpha says that - rich or poor - there’s only really way to take it. Jason swallows. He’s about two seconds away from laying one on this creep, but for Alfred and Bruce’s sake he gives him one more chance. “Let go of me, _now_.” 

But apparently he’s speaking a foreign language, because again Jamie doesn’t listen. The hand on his elbow tightens, joined by another touch to his waist. The wave of scent pulses over him again, stuffing up his nose and sliding down his throat. Despite himself, Jason feels something stir in the pit of his stomach: the biological urge to give in.

He’s lucky that Jamie’s scent is one he finds naturally repellent, and that Bruce had trained him extensively on how to resist the employment of such tactics both in the field and at home.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jamie is saying, eyes dark. He no longer looks so purposefully obtuse. “I can smell the change in you. You and I could be good together, Jason. There are things I can offer you that -”

Jason snaps his leg up the instant he feels the hand at his waist slide lower. At this angle, with their difference in height and with how close Jamie has put himself, it’s pathetically easy to ram his knee into his balls, and twice as satisfying to watch the result of the action.

The alpha yelps, letting go of him at once as his hands fly down to his crotch, and then he keels sideways, bending over and moaning in pain. “You son of a -!”

Jason kicks him, this time in the ankle, ruining whatever balance Jamie has left. He collapses down onto the floor with a moan, still cradling his mashed balls and cock. It’s fucking pathetic, and Jason smirks as he crouches down to talk to him (after a quick glance at the doors back to the ballroom to make sure no one’s watching them). 

“My turn to talk now, Freyman.” he hisses, deliberately addressing him by surname. He also lets his accent deepen back to it’s roots on the streets of Gotham. “I’ll address it real plain for you too, since you’re apparently deaf as a fucking post otherwise. I _ain’t_ interested in you. Not you, and not your fuckin’ money, or whatever power you think it gives you. Just because I’m from the streets doesn’t mean I’m desperate, which is what I’d have to be to want to go along with a prick like you. You think you’re big shit, yet here you are whining on the floor like a pathetic little mutt.”

Jamie bares his teeth, a snarl pulling at his lips, “When my father -”

“When your father what, knothead?” Jason raises his eyebrows, “You gonna tell her how you got your ass handed to you by one little omega?”

He’s never seen an alpha’s face go so white so fast - outside of the idiots he and Bruce beat down in costume. Jamie’s mouth snaps shut faster than it opened.

“Yeah,” he smirks, “Didn’t think so. You’re going to keep your mouth shut, ain’t ya, Freyman? Else it won’t just be your sire who hears about this, it’ll be all your friends and classmates too. I’m sure they’ll all respect you after that.”

Jason stands back up, straightening the lines of his shirt more for effect than anything. Under his bravado his skin is still crawling, but he refuses to let it show. He doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement before turning to saunter away back inside, confident his threat will work. For an alpha like Jamie, such a story would be a major hit to his reputation, and most definitely open him up to challenges from his peers.

Jason’s fairly certain he won’t want to risk that.

He slips back inside the ballroom, wincing as the wall of sound and scent of a hundred gathered people assaults his senses once more, then starts to look for Alfred. It has to be time now, and even it isn’t, Jason’s had enough. He wants out of here before anyone else decides to try their luck with him tonight.

He also doesn’t want Bruce to notice anything amiss with him, or to think that Jason can’t handle his own problems.

Lucky for him, Alfred is as punctual as ever, and as astute. He takes one look at Jason from where he’s standing at the double doorway leading into the ballroom and purses his lips before nodding, “Come along then, Master Jason. No need to say any goodbyes tonight, I think. I’ve already set the tea to brew.”

Jason smiles as relief spreads through him. “Mind if I go change first, Alfie?”

“Somehow, young sir, I doubt even wild stallions could stop you from doing that.”

Jason runs upstairs while Alfred walks back to the kitchen, kicking his shoes off as soon as he reaches the second floor. The rest of his suit he saves for when he’s in his room, where he rips it off with far less care than such expensively tailored fabric probably deserves. Jason’s just too glad to be rid of it and all the uncomfortable feelings it holds to do otherwise.

One pair of pyjama pants and a faded Wonder Woman t-shirt later, Jason feels more like himself. He heads into the bathroom, spending a good minute splashing cold water on his face before ruffling his hair up even worse than Bruce did, until he’s satisfied that the boy looking back him from the mirror is more Jason Todd than Jason _Wayne_.

One more of these bastard things down, God knows how many more to go in his lifetime.

God knows how many more would-be suitors to fend off before the rest of them get the message to leave him alone.

Jason curls his fingers on the edge of the marble counter, taking deep breaths in and out as water drips down his chin and into the sink. It’s just a price he pays to be here, that’s all. There’s always a price to pay for good living, and it could be much, much worse.

He rubs his face dry on one of the towels, sniffs himself to make sure none of Jamie’s scent lingers, then heads down to the kitchen via the servants stairway at the back of the house.

Alfred and tea await. Time to start planning his hard-won menu for the week ahead.

 

*

 

The next morning (after a night that was sadly patrol-less) Jason wakes up to the sound of his phone chiming with a new text. He picks it up groggily, unlocks the screen and grimaces before tossing it across the other side of mattress and yanking his pillow over his head in an attempt to suffocate himself.

_nice photo in the gazette, little wing. maybe you should join team nightwing, blue’s a good color on you ;)_

God damn, Dick Grayson.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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